


Hide Your Fires

by Cherith



Series: Bring My Soul to Bare [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Jealousy, M/M, and, it wouldn't be Carver without a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 17:58:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherith/pseuds/Cherith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After meeting Marian in the Deep Roads, Nathaniel declares his attraction to Carver.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title and inspiration for this comes from "Roll Away Your Stone" by Mumford & Sons  
> [Chapter One](http://cherith.tumblr.com/post/11232149572/carver-nathaniel-for-annavainen%0A) was written for a request by annavainen on Tumblr (October 9th, 2011)

“So, your sister-”  
  
Carver holds up a hand.  “Don’t, just, don’t.”    
  
“What?” Nathaniel shrugs and with a quirk of his brow manages to give Carver a look that suggests playful innocence.    
  
“Seriously, Nathaniel, whatever you were going to say, I don’t want to hear it.”  He frowned, and rubbed at the back of his neck.  “We’re not exactly… friendly, she and I.”  
  
He steps up to match pace with Carver and claps him on the shoulder. His head is shaking and he bites at his bottom lip to keep from laughing.  But, there’s hurt, anger even in Carver’s expression and his eyes flash with surprise at Nathaniel’s touch.  He flinches and steps out of reach.  
  
“I just-” Carver mumbles and though Nathaniel is watching and waiting for more- for an explanation, it doesn’t come.  
  
His steps quicken until he’s walking faster than Carver, hiding his own sudden frustration and confusion.  And it’s minutes before he feels his fellow Warden at his side again and then, while they walk, a swing of his arm brushes against the gauntlet on Carver’s forearm.  He grunts at the impact- more surprise than pain and he looks over to find Carver watching him and Nathaniel isn’t sure which of them stops walking first but there they are.  
  
With a sigh, Carver shakes his head and says, “Look, I’m sorry.  I just don’t want to talk about her, if that’s alright?”  His eyes drop to Nathaniel’s arm.  “You okay?”  
  
Nathaniel is clutching his forearm in his hand, but it doesn’t hurt.  It was hardly painful, the impact with Carver’s armor, but he can’t bring himself to drop it, especially under Carver’s gaze.  He rolls his shoulders, a stretch and a shrug and time wasted while he draws his own long breath.    
  
“No harm done.”  He smirks and nearly holds his arm out as proof.   
  
After another moment, of awkward glances from Carver, they start walking again.  Nathaniel drops his hands, to his side, but it’s clear Carver is giving him a wider berth than before.  Finally, he hears a small sigh of relief from the younger man and Nathaniel grins.  
  
He licks his lips and then says, “You know, Carver-” he spares a sidelong glance to see Carver’s chin lift, defiant and angry- “I only mentioned her, because I thought to comment on something I noticed.”  
  
Nathaniel watches the bob of Carver’s throat as he forces out, “Say it whatever it is you mean to say then.”  He’s not looking at Nathaniel, though it’s clear he wants to, listing closer as they walk.  “It’s obvious you want to.”  
  
He stops again and waits for Carver to turn back to look at him.    
  
“I don’t think Delilah and I look much alike, you know.  Well, of course you don’t, you haven’t met her yet.”  Nathaniel stares at some vague thing in the middle-distance beyond Carver’s shoulder, trying to avoid the glare he knows he’s getting, but he can still see it when Carver shifts his stance and rolls his eyes, annoyed.  “Well, aside from the hair.  She has dark hair like mine.”  
  
“And?”  
  
Shrugging, he continues, “Anyway.  It doubt it’ll have the same impact if I were to say it now.”  
  
“Spit it out, Nathaniel.”  
  
Slowly, taking in the stone, the blue and silver of Carver’s armor, his dark hair and similarly blue eyes, Nathaniel brings his gaze to Carver’s.  He waits to make sure he’s being watched, that Carver really- sees him.    
  
“I was only going to comment that it seems good looks are a Hawke family trait.”    
  
There’s a frustrated sigh from Carver and he starts to turn around, his eyes rolling again this time with what seems like disappointment or perhaps it’s disgust.  “Yes, I’ve heard many times about how attractive Marian is.  Thank you for that.”  
  
Nathaniel doesn’t follow after him when Carver starts to walk again.  He crosses his hands over his chest and calls out, “That’s not the Hawke I was referring to.”


	2. Chapter 2

It’s not until they’re back in Amaranthine that Carver gives himself time to think about Kirkwall.  About the Deep Roads.  About... Nathaniel.  Part of him wanted to think that Nate had been joking, but there had been something buried in his fellow Warden’s eyes that told him it hadn’t been a joke.  Not really.

He’d shook it off at the time, a shrug of his shoulders and turning away to hide the blush in his cheeks.  “Okay... thanks.  I guess.”    What else what he supposed to say?  He’s seen the way Nate behaved at the keep; there seemed no end to the way Nate flirted with Velanna, and Sigrun, even the Warden when she seemed to be in a particularly good mood.  

And Carver, well, he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t want to know the man better.  Like he hadn’t stared at the braids in Nate’s hair wondering what they looked like undone, if his hair would kink like Bethany’s had after she’d worn her wet hair in braids until it dried.  It was impossible not to notice how dark his eyes were, blue, but like the depths of the sea between here and Kirkwall, deeper even like the way Isabela had talked about the water off the coasts of Rivain.  

Almost infuriatingly, he hadn’t even asked Carver anything after that, he hadn’t mentioned anything else unless it pertained to their trip home.  The next words from his mouth had been something mundane about returning home.  There was nothing in the way he spoke to indicate it had happened at all, which left Carver to a sort of madness where he could barely discern his memory from that of a dream.  It was difficult to leave it aside, but there was a kindness in the way Nate hadn’t mentioned it again.  It gave him time to consider what the other man had meant by it, and how he felt about it at all.  

He was relieved first, he’d heard enough about Marian’s good looks in his life that he was grateful not to have to relieve yet another man fawning over how lovely she was (and witty too! they were always quick to add).  Confusion and embarrassment followed after, showing in the way he’d stammered out his response and turned away to avoid talking about it further.  Or intelligibly.  

After was only the variations on empty frustration and obsessive longing.  They were home by then, and now like the trip itself was only a fanciful dream, and Nate was back to his shared jokes with Sigrun and teasing Velanna.  Carver fought over and over the familiar demon of jealousy.  He knew the feeling too well not to recognize it when it came upon him, fists balling in his lap during dinner, knuckles whitening around the hilt of his training sword, his teeth grinding overnight so that he woke with a jaw too sore to move in the mornings.  

Nights too were a particular kind of horror, the kind in which he replayed those few words over and over in his head.  “That’s not the Hawke I was referring to.”  

Maybe it would’ve been easier if he’d even bothered to ask, “is it me?  Am I the one?”

Finally someone seemed to prefer him: Carver, over Marian.  And he hadn’t even bothered to check, to make sure that’s exactly what Nate had been trying to tell him.  Although, when he did think about it, he had no idea what he would’ve said next.  Or what he would’ve done.  

He had no shortage of ideas though, his dreams had provided him with more than enough fodder for what could have transpired.  If only he’d been brave enough to ask.  

They were home for two weeks before Nathaniel found him, alone.  He was staring at the spot just above the book he was supposed to looking at, as though the shelf in front of him was far more interesting the words on the page.  Bethany had always been more interested in books, but that wasn’t what had him distracted.  

“Book that interesting?” Nate asked.  

Carver jumped, book flipping closed in his lap as he looked up.  It wasn’t the first time he’d been surprised by the other warden’s quiet footsteps, but he’d never been caught thinking about him at the same time.  

“Uh... no.”  He could feel his cheeks burning.  He looked down at the book making sure none of the pages had folded accidentally, while getting a chance to let his heart slow down.

“So you have a moment to talk?”

Carver swallowed hard before looking up again.  “Yeah.”

“Good.  I wanted to before, but we haven’t much time since we’ve been back.”  Nate took the seat next to his and turned it so he could sit and still face him.  It meant finding little space between them, making his skin tingle.  Once seated, Nate continued.  “I wanted to talk about what I said after we met your sister in the deep roads.  You didn’t talk much after, or since we’ve been home... or at least not to me.”

He didn’t even leave a moment for a breath after Nate’s words before saying, “Was it a joke?  Were you making a joke -- you do that, make jokes.”  Marian did that too, make jokes about people’s lives like they were nothing.  What was a spark of flame in her hand to his sword, after all?  His hands shook and he tightened his grip on the book in them.  His voice was strained, wavering and teetering on the edge of anger.  

Nate’s eyes widened and he sat back in his chair.  Silence sat heavy between them and Carver felt his brows knit together as he pressed his lips together, indignant.  In his head he wondered what was taking so long to answer.  After it all, wasn’t it easy to say:  Yes, it was a joke.  Or: No, Carver, I meant it.  Every word.  

His chest tightened, waiting for his fate to be meted out by Nathaniel’s voice, so certain that either answer would collapse him completely.  

“No,” Nate said at last, leaning forward once more.  “I’m sorry, Carver.”

As he felt his heart drop into his belly, he looked back to the book in his lap hoping to hide his crushing disappointment.  He didn’t see him move, but before he could breath again, Nate’s hand was on his chin, tilting his head back.  He’d moved in so close that Carver could see little else than the depths of the sea in his eyes.  

“I’m so sorry I waited so long to talk to you,” Nate whispered, kissing him with the next breath.  


End file.
